


and mighty was its fall

by 75hearts



Series: silmarillion drabbles [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drabble, Fall of Gondolin, Gen, gotta post this now before the fall of gondolin comes out and makes this noncanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/75hearts/pseuds/75hearts
Summary: a drabble about the death of Turgon





	and mighty was its fall

So many of them had fallen in the Square of the King; they had not expected the balrogs. The makeshift barricades had fallen quickly. Ecthelion fell upon them with a vengeance, sword flashing quickly. “Run!” he had called. “I can keep them busy! Run!”

Turgon wanted to stay. He wanted to defend the city he had spent fifty-two years building.

They were surrounded, outnumbered, facing fallen beasts and maiar. “Retreat!” he called, and his army--or what was left of it--followed him to the tower and up it. The last thing he saw before the door was shut to the tower was the orcs pouring into the square.

In the tower, he slumped against the wall. “I have been a fool,” he whispered. “Ulmo warned me, not once but twice; and the council spoke against me, and I ignored them. It is my ruin, but if it were only that I could forgive myself. It is the ruin of my city, and the ruin of my men, and the death of us all.” He stood up, then, and tossed his crown to the ground. “I shall need this no more. A king who leads his men to death is no king at all; and my word should not be the orders of a king, but instead the cautionary tale of a madman. I deserve pity, not admiration, for I have proved myself unworthy.” He steeled himself and looked out on his men. “Follow Tuor, son of Huor of the house of Hador, kindred of Húrin. He has worn no crown, and I have worn a splendid one, and he is one of the Secondborn, while I am one of the Eldar that has seen the light of Valinor; but he has proved himself twice the king that I have ever been. Hail, to the new King of Gondolin!” And then: “Tuor, I can no longer command you, but I ask you listen to my council as I did not listen to yours: retreat from the city. Bring them to safety. Alas! that I have loved this place too long, and too deeply, to join you.”

It was with despair that he ascended the stairs to the highest peak, and he sung quietly as he went, songs of tragedy; but when he reached it, he stopped, and looked at the stumps where orcs had hewn Glingal and Belthil where they stood, and cried aloud, voice heavy with sorrow: “Great is the victory of the Noldor!”

He stood there for quite some time, watching as the enemy unmade in a day what had taken him so many long decades to build. Rocks that had been dragged up the hill with great toil were rolled down in a great crash; trees that had taken centuries to grow to their height were felled. Just as Tirion before it, the city fell.

When the orcs reached him, Turgon did not fight back.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i wrote this because i told my friends i would write a short angsty drabble about any song lyric they gave me and one of them said "what about 'we built this city on rock and roll'? can you make THAT angsty?"  
> (turns out the answer is yes.)


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